


Claimed

by Nonnily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everybody's consenting, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Violence, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonnily/pseuds/Nonnily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is captured by an an alpha... and claimed by another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claimed

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a prompt from TW Kink Meme, and filled there as well. This takes place in some nebulous future, where Stiles is definitely of age. 
> 
> See end notes for (lack of) consent issues.

Stiles was panting as he squinted his eyes against the dark, trying to follow the movements of the Alpha wolf. He was fully aware of the irony there, that he was the one panting, but he’d moved through hyperventilating to panic attack and out again, so he was just happy to be breathing. His fear was close to the surface, overflowing, the alpha made sure of that. Every time his heart slowed, she pounced into his space, drawing a claw along his cheek or bicep, once bringing her teeth up against his neck.

He shuddered remembering it, not just the hot breath there, the threat of death, but the threat of changing. Being her beta. Worse than death, he’d always scoffed at. Worse than death he understood now.

The alpha huffed in impatience. She turned her snout towards him, stared at him, then shifted abruptly into her beta form.

“Not coming,” she growled. “Alpha Hale is not coming. Thought he loved you, hm? Thought he was your mate.” She hissed out the word with a grin, mocking. “Obviously you are nothing to him. A toy to fuck and throw away. Worthless.”

Stiles huffed out a broken sob. His dignity was long gone, left behind hours ago when she stripped him, drew up thin lines of blood with her claws, over and over until he broke. Stiles could hear his breath in the pause after her words, could hear the whimpers that slipped out with every exhale. He closed his eyes, thought of Derek, thought of the quiet and warmth of their home, of his lover’s slow smile. The memories were getting harder to pull up now. It felt like all he’d ever known was this forest, this pain.

He heard it then, a familiar roar – of course the alpha did as well, and she laughed, but Stiles let a laugh slip out, close to hysterical. So soon he sees the dark form bounding toward them. He’s chuckling now, feeling detached.

“He’s gonna get you,” he rasps out, grinning at the back of the alpha’s head.

And Derek comes up on them with a ground-shaking roar, in his full alpha form that Stiles hasn’t seen in years. The alpha roars back, taunting him, leading him around the clearing, but Derek is in no mood. He pounces, and they roll over each other, teeth flashing. Stiles tries to pay attention, tries to follow Derek, figure out whose blood belongs to who, but he’s finding his eyes can’t quite focus right. He’s still laughing softly, doesn’t think he can stop now. There’s claws flying, and growls and whimpers, and suddenly Stiles can focus, because Derek has just reared up and there’s something in his mouth. A chunk of flesh. Stiles glances down, and his laughs get louder, more uncontrolled. Derek ripped her throat out with his teeth.

Derek drops the bloody flesh from his mouth and roars over his kill, still up on his hind legs. Stiles finally stops laughing, feels like he might be able to take deep breaths again. Derek’s head twists suddenly, eyes fixed on Stiles. Stiles hasn’t been afraid of Derek in years, and he doesn’t start now, just tries to smile at him. He’s not sure he’s successful, because Derek suddenly drops onto four legs again and whimpers, jumping to Stiles’s side in one leap.

Abruptly he’s everywhere, trying to rub up against Stiles, smell him, push his nose into his face. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Stiles murmurs, trying to make eye contact. Derek lets out a low, mournful noise, and slices the bloody rope from Stiles’s wrists and ankles with a claw. They’ve been tied for so long that Stiles can’t really move his arms or legs, but instead of collapsing on the ground he finds he’s got a face full of soft fur. Derek moves so that Stiles rests gently on the forest floor, and then his wolf eyes are darting up and down his body, seemingly overwhelmed at all the little cuts. He leans his head down, slowly, eyes on Stiles’s, and cautiously licks a long line of clotted blood on Stiles’s stomach.

“Derek,” Stiles sobs out, and he’s so overwhelmed, doesn’t know what to feel, and knows somehow that Derek’s alpha form is the right thing for him right now, his emotions simplified, magnified.

Derek keeps licking him, up and down his cuts, releasing little wolf whimpers every time Stiles winces. Stiles manages to lift his arm enough to bury his fingers in Derek’s flank, holding on for dear life. Derek’s moved slightly now, his body draped over Stiles’s as he laves at the shallow gashes on his thighs. Stiles is looking down at him weakly and feels a little shock when he sees that he has an erection – he thought he’d gotten well past the stage of an adrenaline or fear boner, but apparently not. Derek moves naturally, without hesitation, and licks a long stripe up Stiles’s cock, then noses at the hair at the base. Stiles whimpers, and the feeling of something pleasurable, something good is so foreign to him after the last couple of days that he can’t help but want more.

“Please, Derek,” he begs, “Please.” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, can’t articulate it, but wolf-Derek can read him just as well as his human counterpart, maybe even better, and he licks Stiles’s cock again, and again. His tongue is large and wet, and there’s not really enough friction at all, but still Stiles can feel himself thrusting up weakly, whimpers of pain turning to moans of want. Derek’s enthusiastically licking him now, Stiles’s hand fisting in his fur, and Stiles’s eyes are closed but he can feel Derek moving, adjusting himself differently. It’s a shock when Derek’s tongue moves, licks his balls once, then goes further back, finding his hole and lapping at it enthusiastically. Stiles moans loudly, body twisting without his control, hands moving down to find Derek’s fur and stroke it. He can’t think, can’t focus his mind, but he knows what Derek wants, what his wolf wants. He wants Stiles to smell like him again, wants to assert that he belongs to him. And he wants Stiles not to be in pain anymore. Stiles wants that too, suddenly, with an overpowering need.

“Derek, please,” he whimpers, “Please, inside me, come on.” Derek lets out a sound like a soft woof from between Stiles’s thighs and keeps licking at his hole, trying to press his wide tongue inside of Stiles. Stiles knows he’s not really ready, knows it’s going to hurt, but this is a familiar hurt, an intimate, almost pleasurable hurt. He bucks under Derek’s tongue and rolls himself over, managing to position himself on his hands and knees. He can hear Derek letting out a keening noise behind him, and his wolf form is suddenly draped over the top of Stiles, large enough that he doesn’t have to put pressure on his battered body.

“Yes,” Stiles whispers, “Derek, I need you, please…” Derek licks a stripe up Stiles’s back and Stiles can feel his cock nudging up against his entrance, trying to find the right angle. Suddenly he thrusts shallowly, and Stiles gasps. It’s tight, and it burns, but it’s so- so Derek, so Derek all over, his breath panting above him, his body all around him, and Stiles bucks back into him a bit. Derek whuffs in his ear, then thrusts all the way in, hard. Stiles grunts, and he can feel Derek’s body trembling around him, trying to reign in its instincts.

“Yes, Derek, go, please,” Stiles mutters, eyes screwed shut and fingers trying to fist in the dirt. Derek nuzzles at his neck and begins thrusting in an awkward, stuttering rhythm. Stiles can feel his knot bumping up against his hole and he moans, dropping down to his elbows. He manages to get one hand under himself and pumps his cock once, twice, before coming in ribbons on the ground beneath him. He lets out a shuddering breath and Derek slams into him once more, pressing the knot inside in one swift motion. Stiles barks out a loud noise and Derek howls over him, body convulsing. Before Stiles can faceplant into the dirt, Derek flips them so that Stiles is laying on top of him, his cock still buried inside him. Stiles has his eyes closed, hands coming up to fist in Derek’s fur, nose buried in his soft belly. Derek’s still coming, still thrusting minutely into him, and it’s so foreign, it’s maybe one of the strangest positions Stiles has ever been in, but it’s safe. He’s safe, and he’s with Derek, and he’s going to go home. Derek is letting out small whimpers around him, body trembling and warm. Stiles wiggles on him, manages to get close to his face and kisses him on the nose.

“Derek,” he whispers, “Derek.” Derek huffs a breath in his face and licks him, quickly, happily. Stiles cuddles in closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Although I know bestiality can bring up complicated consent issues, I tried to make it clear in this work that everyone involved is completely consenting and aware of everything that's happening.


End file.
